The Oxford Book of Canadian Verse
Tempora MutanturNewton MacTavish (18751941)
T
How softly-swift the sand that marked the hour
When Barbara fetched to me the spirit-mead
And urged me to my solitary bower!
And all was sweet within the wondrous hour
When Barbara raised the ruddy, ardent wine,
And bade me seek my solitary bower.
As, man and wife, we scorned the fleeting hour,
And drank of happiness—for us, alas!
Too deep within the sense-seducing bower.
*****
Now by the glass how slow the sand sets speed,
How softly-slow the sand that marks the hour
When I, no Barbara to pledge Love’s mead,
Go heartsick to my solitary bower.